Deadly Secrets
by Independence Undervalued
Summary: Curly Shepard has been raised to believe in the "them against us" mentality, with them being a number of unnamed enemies. But when one of the enemies is also one of the people he holds closest to him, he faces a dilemma larger than any he's ever seen. And it's not just win or lose at a rumble. This time, someone's life is at stake.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **It's just so hard to stay away. Let's see how many _Outsiders_ readers are still out there.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_. And I don't promise speedy updates because quite frankly, I'm not sure if this is going to take off from here or not. We shall see.

* * *

The smoldering flames seemed to lick the skyline with their orange and yellow tongues, dancing and burning bright against the black night sky. Sirens screamed and wailed, piercing through the stillness with their loud cries. It was like a slice of hell had risen up and landed smack dab in the middle of Tulsa.

From their place in the bushes, the group of friends had a front row seat to the entire soap opera, snickering as firefighters tried desperately to douse the flames they were guilty of setting. One of the officers came so close to their hiding place, he nearly stepped on them. The hidden teens all froze, holding their breath and being completely still until the dopey officer found something else to do, away from them.

Everything had gone according to plan. They'd come in and scared the building's occupants out with the early flames they'd set and stood around to watch the results, laughing as they watched the hoods go running. It had been the perfect end to the perfect day and the group of greasers couldn't have been happier with their plan.

_It__ had been too easy._

As the six of them hurried off into the night, still laughing and hollering with excitement over their latest adventure, they didn't hear the screams of the poor bastard inside of the inferno.

Seems as though the building hadn't been emptied out after all.

_-Before-_

"Dammit, Angela, you can't cook for shit. How did you manage to burn the goddamn soup?"

Sounds of glass breaking fill the house and Angela screams, "Go to hell! Let's see you cook, _Timothy_."

Thankfully, their Ma and stepfather aren't home or else there'd be hell to pay for the noise and for the mess. Instead, it's just the three Shepard kids and Tim is in charge. Or so he says. When Angela goes off like she is today, though, everyone knows Tim would happily give over those reigns to anyone that would take them.

Curly chuckles from his place on the couch, shaking his head. Much to all of their surprise, Tim actually made damn good food. Having realized this tiny fact, Angela storms out of the kitchen and to her room, dramatically slamming the door behind her. Curly can hear Tim groaning in the kitchen as he actually attempts to do his homework for the first time in ages. Damn that Ponyboy Curtis for wearing off on him.

There's a loud knock on the door, but Curly doesn't bother to get up, and the knocker doesn't bother to wait. That's protocol at their place. Knock first, then come on in. Heavy boots sound on the wood floors and Curly doesn't have to look up to know who it is.

"How's it hangin', Jack?"

His lanky, tough friend snickers and throws himself on the couch, smoking a cigarette as he reclines. "Loose, man, nice and loose. The fuck is that? You ain't doin' _homework, _are you?"

Curly sighs and shoves his books to the floor, knowing any hopes of getting something done are useless now that his friends are here. "Nah, just passin' time 'til I could see your sweet ole face."

Jack Tucker sneers. "Cute. Charlie and Eva are on their way. Sam's scarin' Angela."

"What d'you mean, scarin' her?"

Angela's loud scream erupts from upstairs to answer his question and both Curly and Jack howl with laughter. She comes storming down the stairs, eyes blazing and bright red patches high on her cheeks, Sam Caldwell not too far behind her with a proud smile on his normally expressionless face.

"_Charles,_ you'd be smart to control your dumbass friends before I shove one back out the window they climb through," she screeches, flipping Sam the bird, as she leaves through the kitchen.

"Angel, stop hollerin'," Tim drones, coming back in the room and sitting in his chair. "Ain't ladylike."

"Wait, if there are ladies present, then I'm out." Eva Harley waltzes in the room, smirking sexily at her waiting boyfriend.

Jack snapped his teeth in her direction, grabbing her ass, and she giggles madly as she nimbly climbs on his lap. Curly can't help but roll his eyes at the two of them. They are absolutely nauseating to be around. The last newcomer, Charlie Pearson, comes in and shoots Curly a wink.

"How's it goin', Curly," she asks, sitting on the sofa beside him.

"Not too bad," he replies, silently cursing himself for not thinking of something smarter to say.

He'd liked Charlie since they met a few years back, but had never worked up the nerve to tell her. She'd flirted with him on and off ever since then, but it wasn't ever serious enough for Curly to know how she felt. So, they were just good friends. Sam sits quietly on the sofa's arm, greeting Curly with a punch to the shoulder. Tim is watching the gathering silently, but Curly doesn't like the way his eyes keep landing on Charlie.

Or the way she keeps returning his looks.

"So, what have you been doin'? Keepin' busy, I bet," he asks Charlie, trying to draw her attention back to him.

She shrugs and grabs the cigarette from behind Sam's ear with a smirk. "Oh, the usual. Lookin' for trouble."

"I bet you find plenty in a town like this," Tim drawls, still giving her that look Curly despises.

Charlie shrugs, twirling her bright, red hair, but Curly knows her well enough to know she likes the attention. Of course she does. Charlie isn't like them Soc girls. She can get down with some of the roughest hoods and she has. The only thing Curly can't stand about her is how secretive she is about her home life.

They'd been friends for nearly five years, but Curly didn't know a damn thing about her. Other than her name was Charlene and she would give you a bloody nose if you called her anything _but _Charlie. He'd learned that lesson the hard way.

Seeming to grow bored of the _kids_, Tim stands with a heavy sigh. "Can't sit around all day, like some of you bums. Got work to do."

Curly frowns. "What work?"

"Like I'm tellin' you," Tim sighs, rolling his eyes. "_Work_. Geez, Curly, I'd think your brains gone soft asking stupid questions like that."

Charlie snickers beside him and Curly feels his face flush hot. He hates his brother with a burning passion at times like this and gives him a pointed stare to prove his point. If Tim sees it, he shows no sign of it as he stops in front of Curly and lights up his own smoke casually.

"Don't fuck up the house while I'm out, kid."

"Ain't a kid," Curly intones, kicking Tim's shin as he walks by and earning a sharp thump to the back of the head.

Charlie smirks. "See you around, Tim."

Curly wants to punch his brother as he sees him hesitate at her words and he flat out wants to kill him when Tim reaches out and pinches Charlie's cheek smartly as he leaves the house. He doesn't even realize that he is half off of the sofa until Charlie pinches his arm firmly.

"Goin' somewhere, slick?"

He grumbles a "No" before relaxing back into the couch. Sam nudges him and gives him a knowing smirk, so Curly knocks him off of the couch, to everyone else's amusement. Ready to change the mood, Curly claps his hands together and smiles broadly at his group of friends.

"What do you guys think about findin' some trouble in this town?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Charlie sighs dramatically, grinning at him.

Eva rolls her dark eyes and runs her hand over her cropped blonde hair. "What do you wanna do, rob a bank?"

Curly shrugs and rolls his eyes. "Shut up, Eva. Just 'cause you're on the rag don't mean you can be a bitch to everybody."

"You gonna let him talk to me like that," she yells, glaring at Jack who just grins helplessly.

"C'mon, babe," he whines, biting her neck to pacify her. "He's got a point."

She points a long finger in Curly's direction and glares. "You're an asshole, Shepard."

"Right back at ya," he replies, flipping her off.

Before she can yell in reply, Jack grabs her chin and pulls her lips to his, muffling her heated response. The rest of them snicker at Eva and her hot temper. She and Angela have gotten in their fair share of scraps because of that shared trait and it's part of the reason Curly loves to push her buttons. She's just another kid sister to him and he loves her for it.

"For real, though," Jack moans, pulling away from Eva's bright red lips. "What kinda shit can we rustle up, man?"

Curly smirks broadly and shrugs. "I got some ideas."

Sam groans from the floor and glares up at Curly. "That never leads to good things, man."

"I second that," Eva spits, shooting him a fierce look which he returns with a smile.

"Go get in trouble and see how fast I get ahold of Tim."

Angela's back and with her hands on her hips, a sure sign she's ready for a fight. Curly groans and walks over to her, grabbing her upper arm and trying to steer her away from his friends.

"Jesus, Angela, can't you butt out," he whispers, leading her to the kitchen.

She smirks broadly at him. "Nope. Not this time. So either I go with you guys, or I call Tim and tell him you're startin' shit. And I might let it slip you were the one that lost his good pocketknife."

"I oughta knock your lights out," Curly growls, shoving his sister roughly.

"Be my guest." God bless her, he thinks ruefully, as she stands her ground.

That's one thing Angela isn't - _scared_.

Seeing he has no way of winning this argument, he drags her back into the living room where his friends are standing, ready to go. "I've been royally screwed."

"I believe that's called _incest_, Charles," Eva says in her sassy way.

Angela glares at her from beside Curly. "Try that again and I'll rip the rest of your ratty hair out."

Curly can't help but laugh at his sister and the shocked look on Eva's face. Angela has a strange philosophy when it comes to her brothers - she's allowed to beat on them, talk shit to anyone that will listen, and be a downright _bitch_, but if anyone else tries, she puts an end to it right then and there. It's clear from the look on her face that Angela Shepard is in no mood to deal with Ms. Eva Harley.

"Alright, ladies, break it up," he pacifies, squeezing Angel's arm gently. "Let's go grab some lunch and we can figure out our moves from there."

Falling back, Curly lets the others leave before him, clapping Sam on the back as they headed out. And to no one's surprise, Eva and Angela don't even make it to the car before their claws come out.

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**A/N: **So, let me know what you think. This story will center on the Shepard family, so the Curtis gang may make appearances, but they won't be the primary characters. Also, if my new friend **Fire Sage** is reading this, please know I've had this story in mind for months and have always envisioned the name of Charlie for this character! I didn't steal it! :P

Please leave reviews. That's the only way I'll know who is interested.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **So stoked on the feedback so far. Thank you all! I don't promise weekly updates, but this chapter just kinda came to me. And if I do steadily update, it will most likely be Monday evenings.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_. Original characters are my own creations.

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Sitting in the Dingo, Curly throws his arm across the back of the booth behind Charlie's shoulders. He doesn't dare touch her. Not around their friends. He's too afraid of what her reaction may be and after the entire scene between her and Tim, he's not too sure he wants to know how she'd react.

Feud seemingly put to rest, Eva and Angela are gossiping in the corner of the booth. Curly can't hear much of what they're saying, but he gets the gist when he hears "long and strong" followed by high-pitched snickers. Rolling his eyes, he makes a mental note to talk to Angela about guys again later. He doesn't need no baby sister of his getting knocked up.

The Dingo is going strong for being just past noon. In the corner are the rowdiest hoods, yelling and knocking their drinks on the floor. Curly cringes as one of them landed on a busted bottle, blood immediately pouring from the guy's back. Sam whistles as a group of broads come in with skirts too short and make-up too thick.

Jack glances at them wistfully, earning him a slap to the back of the head from a glaring Eva. Curly can't help but laugh as he watches his friends. They may be hoods, but he recognizes them as more than that. They're all just kids. Him included.

Under the table, Charlie rests her hand on his knee and squeezes gently. Not-so-subtly, Curly jumps and flushes, glancing at her in surprise. She chuckles and gives him one of her infamous "Seriously?" looks with a wink.

Their waitress is occupied in the far end of the building, starting a fight with some broad talking to her boyfriend. The clientele that the Dingo attracts is a rough crowd, Curly thinks as he starts to climb out of the booth.

"I'm gonna let Mikey know what we want. The usual?"

His friends nod their assent and he heads to the back, hollering his order over the ruckus caused by the other patrons. As Curly placed the order, he glanced around the kitchen of the Dingo. It was filthy and run down, causing Curly to cringe. To think their food was being prepared here was disgusting and he wished they could head over to the nice side of town to eat, for once.

Though the entire class feud had died out with Dally Winston, Johnny Cade, and that Soc kid, hoods were the exception. They still weren't welcome on the good parts of the greasers side, let alone over on the nice side of town. Though he wasn't the dirtiest hood there was, he was Tim's little brother and therefore, he was immediately listed as scum. It made his blood boil.

Mikey gave him a mostly-toothless grin and motioned for him to leave. "Get on outta the kitchen, boy. Food'll be done in a bit."

Curly waves mindlessly and heads back to the booth. His friends are now shouting to be heard over the other customers and Curly regrets having to come there. Sliding in next to Charlie, he's a bit more gutsy this time and puts his arm around her shoulders with a smirk. Charlie settles in under his arm, her hand landing back on his leg. Content, Curly sips on his drink.

Their food finally comes out, their waitress sporting a split lip and the beginnings of a black eye. She slaps their food down on the table and gives them a look that clearly said "You want anything else? Tough shit" before leaving. Eva sneers in her direction as she stalks off before sipping on her third glass of water. Like always, she was skipping lunch.

"What's the matter, Eva? Fill up on air," Angela spits, shoving a fistful of fries in her mouth with a wink.

Everyone that knew Eva knew she had her issues, but Angela was really the only one gutsy enough to put it out there. Eva flips her the bird as she snuggles into Jack's side, pushing her salad away from her. Jack snickers and gives Angela a pointed look.

"Least she ain't a pig like _some_ people."

Curly kicks his friend, hard, under the table and Jack winces. He may be a hood, but he'll kill anybody that messes with his sister and she knows it. Angela smirks proudly as she stuffs her face with more food, just to irritate the others. Sometimes she gets under his skin, but sometimes Angela makes Curly so damn proud.

After their meals are finished, the group starts to head out. Another fight is breaking out and Curly sees one of the hoods packing heat. He knows better than to stick around and see how things play out. Charlie grabs his hand playfully as they walk and Curly squeezes her hand in return, wishing he could get the balls to tell her he wanted her as his girl.

Jack pulls his keys out of his pocket and flips them idly, leaning against his car as the others catch up. Sam climbs on the hood of the car and lights up a smoke as the ladies chat off to the side.

"We gotta start some shit soon, man," Sam drawls quietly. " This town's too fuckin' dull for me. Makes my skin itch."

"Ain't the town, buddy. That acid you keep droppin' makes your skin crawl," Jack sneers, punching his friend in the leg.

Curly rolls his eyes and leans against the car by Jack, thinking. "What should we do? Hard to rustle up some trouble around here now that it's just the gangs runnin' shit."

"Oh c'mon, Curls," Charlie says, sidling up the Curly's side. "You're smart. What do _you_ think we should do?"

His friends snicker as he gets tongue-tied. Anytime Charlie turns on her charm, he finds himself completely unable to see past her sexy stare and that body. Curly tries to think of something else so it's not obvious how he's feeling. Charlie smirks broader and leans against him, her curves hitting him in all of the right places.

"Don't tell me your brother is the brains of the operation," she murmurs, fingers tracing the pocket of his jacket. "I know better than to believe that."

A burst of pride flares through him and Curly feels his chest puff out at her words. She's right, after all. He isn't just his brothers lapdog. Sure, he does what Tim wants, but he has ideas. You're damn right he does.

"I was thinkin' 'bout somethin', but it's pretty big," he says, smirking proudly as Charlie plays his hair. "It'll definitely make headlines."

Jack's eyes light up at this and Curly knows his friend is in, no matter what the job. Sam will be harder to convince, usually sticking to sure-things and the less risky business endeavors. But Curly will need all of their help on this one. He glances at Angela and tries to decide whether or not to include her in this. Not seeing a way around it and not seeing any give in her firm look, he sighs.

"What is it," Jack groans, elbowing him sharply. "Ain't gonna beg for the details, Shepard."

Curly hits him back and glares. "Don't call me that, Tucker. What I have in mind involves a little business we all frequent. I was thinkin' we do somethin' to the Dingo. Somethin' big."

"Curly, you take much longer to tell us and I think Jacky here's gonna wet 'imself," Sam drawls, climbing down from the car. "Just spill it, man."

Grinning, Curly shrugs. "What if we burn it?"

"Burn it," Eva asks with a frown.

"Yeah, you know, with fire," Angela sneers, giving her a look. "Flames are those things you light your cigs with, sweets."

Eva's fists clench and she gives Curly a pointed look. "I'm in, as long as _she's_ out."

It's Angela's turn to laugh loudly, throwing back her head as she does. "Oh, please. Curly won't leave me out of this one. And even if he wanted to, he can't."

"Shut up, Angel," he groans, rubbing his face. "Eva, relax. We'll figure somethin' out. I don't wanna talk about it too much here."

"Meaning he has to go and get Timmy's approval," Eva mutters, rolling her eyes.

Angela has had enough and Curly knows it's coming before anyone else. She launches herself at Eva, long, red nails slashing the air as she claws at Eva's face. Charlie groans and moves back so Curly can step in, but he's in no rush. Eva needs her ass kicked and Angela needs to get some anger out. It's really a win-win, he thinks with a smirk.

The other guys know the fight is long overdue, so they wait it out a few minutes, letting the shrieking girls duke it out. Eva gets one good punch in, but Angela has speed on her side and her arms are like windmills, doing a remarkable amount of damage. Finally, Eva yells something that sounds like "Enough" and both Curly and Jack step in, hauling off their respective females.

Spitting in her direction, Angela glares. "Don't go runnin' your mouth, bitch. On you, it's only good for one thing, anyways."

Eva sneers at the implication, blood from her split lip staining her teeth and making her look like a rabid vampire. "Oh, please. I'll say what I want, baby."

Curly still has Angela around the waist, anticipating the last attempt at a fight, and holds her firmly away from Eva. Jack is chuckling to himself as he opens the car door and gets Eva inside. He gives Curly a wink and shrugs, saying a lot without speaking. Sam gives them a wave as he climbs in the backseat and the three of them peel out, tires squealing on the pavement.

Angela lights up a smoke she stole from Curly's pocket and walks a little ways off, cooling down. Charlie is back by Curly's side, her hand playing with his and he grabs it, squeezing. She smirks at him and grabs his jacket, pulling him closer.

"I like it when you take control, Curly," she murmurs, her lips suddenly all he could look at. "It's so hot."

He presses up against her, pinning her to his car with his body and he leans in, whispering in her ear. "I'm pretty good at telling people what to do. We should give it a try sometime."

She giggles and darts out from under him, fixing her hair and straightening her short skirt. Curly feels the burning deep in his gut and wants nothing more than to feel her pressed against him again, but he doesn't want to push his luck. Not yet, anyways.

"Lemme give you a ride home," he offers, swinging the car door open. "Since the other assholes copped out."

Charlie smiles at him but is shaking her head as she starts to back away. "My ride is already here, but thanks. Maybe next time we can go for a ride together."

She keeps this up and I'm gonna have to nail her in the goddamn parking lot, Curly thinks hazily, but he nods and whistles for Angela. His sister makes her way over and climbs in the car, giving Charlie a casual wave as she does. Charlie comes over to him and gives him a peck on the cheek, her hand gripping his waistband suggestively. Goddamn broads, he thinks, shutting his eyes.

"See ya soon, Curls," she calls, hurrying over to a parked car.

As Curly watches, she climbs in and he gets a look at the driver. He's a big guy and looks like a hood that no one would want to cross. Curly is willing to bet even Tim would think twice before fighting this guy, he's that big. The driver has a mean look in his eye and gives Curly a look he can't quite decipher. Shrugging, Curly climbs in his own car and drives towards home, thoughts of his plan slowly brewing in his head.

XxX

The car door barely opens and Curly can hear the screaming from the house. Gene and their mother were at it again and from the sounds of it, Tim was joining in. Angela groans and stays sitting in the car, glaring sullenly at the house. Curly nudges her arm with his and gives her a small grin.

"Hey, how 'bout I kick your ass at some poker?"

She gives him a small smile, appreciative of his attempt at lightening the mood. "You're on, Curly."

The two youngest Shepards head inside and once the door opens, the yelling intensifies even more. Angela darts up the stairs and Curly hears her bedroom door slam shut. Good, he thinks. She doesn't need to deal with this shit tonight. Curly makes his way carefully into the kitchen, ready to duck if anything comes flying in his direction. There's already a pile of shattered plates on the floor and Curly sees Tim in the corner of the kitchen, arms crossed and eyes blazing.

Tim spots him and he holds his hand up, telling Curly to stay out of the way. Gene and his old lady had one hell of a relationship and all three of the kids had been on the receiving end. Both boys made sure Angela got it the least, but Tim made sure Curly was out of the way whenever he could. The screaming reached it's climax and Curly ducked as a vase was lobbed down the hallway, missing him by inches.

He darts into the living room, getting out of the line of fire, and goes up to his bedroom. A few minutes later, Tim appears, still looking royally pissed, but at least not at him. At least he doesn't think so, Curly amends.

His parents are still yelling downstairs, but Tim's departure indicates the worst has blown over. He doesn't have to babysit them anymore.

Curly flips on his desk lamp and lights a smoke. "So what was the deal earlier?"

Tim's frown deepens a bit. "Meanin'?"

"Charlie."

His brother actually smirks as he sits on his bed, opposite Curly's. "Oh, the redhead? Wouldn't mind gettin' to know her a bit better."

Curly glares at him and points his cigarette in Tim's direction. "Don't, man."

"Aw, don't tell me my brother's got a soft spot," Tim sneers, reclining on the mattress. "C'mon, Curls. You ain't a sap."

"I ain't sayin' I'm a sap," Curly snaps, another thought hitting him. "And what about the whole secret act before, huh? Since when don't I get to know what's goin' on with the gang?"

Tim groans and throws an arm over his face. "I ain't in the mood to talk about this shit, Curly. Just go to bed, you read me?"

"No, I don't," Curly demands, standing up. "You make me look like a pussy in front of my friends. You make it look like you don't trust me."

"Jesus Christ, Curly. You're actin' like a bitch right now and I don't feel like strokin' no busted egos." Tim is standing now and Curly can tell things could easily spin out of control with the way they're both positioned.

Curly laughs and shakes his head. "I ain't a broad, Tim. I want to know why you don't trust me all of a sudden. Since when am I the lowest man in the group? I'm your goddamn brother!"

"You're right! You are my goddamn brother and I'd expect you to know a thing or two about how bein' in a gang works," Tim shouts, his voice filling the small room. "So just shut the fuck up and go to bed. I ain't gonna justify how I run my things. You don't like it, pack your things and get the hell out."

"I ain't one of your lil' soldiers you can order around, dammit! I ain't askin' for no government secrets here, Tim. I just wanna know where the hell you went earlier? I think I'm entitled to know where my _leader_ goes now and then," Curly yells, in Tim's face.

Most times, they holler at one another, but very rarely do the Shepard brothers actually fistfight. Tonight looks like one of those rare nights, however.

Angela pokes her head in the room and sees the two of them standing in the center of it, ready to swing. She steps in, hands out in an attempt to appease them.

"Guys, we don't need no more broken shit around here tonight," she offers, trying to make her way between the two of them.

"Yeah, well according to this jackass, he don't need a lot of shit around here," Curly shouts, pointing a finger at his brother. "He thinks he's all high-and-mighty he don't need to tell us lowly greasers what he plans on doing."

Tim swings so quickly, none of them see it until Curly is reeling from the impact, his jaw already coloring. His eyes flash and he throws himself at his brother, swinging hard. The two Shepard's are trained fighters, but against one another they usually try to hold back a bit. Not tonight.

Angela steps back for a few moments, trying to let the two of them sort it out. It isn't until Curly shouts in pain, his nose suddenly pouring bright red blood, that she steps back in, this time determined.

"Tim, get off. Get the fuck off!" She grabs Tim's arm and pulls on it with all of her strength.

Finally, he seems to hear her and steps back, rubbing his torn knuckles while he shakes his head. Curly simply sits on the floor, pinching the bridge of his busted nose as he glares up at his big brother.

"Fuck you, Tim," he growls, spitting blood in Tim's direction.

The eldest Shepard gives his siblings one last, hard look and then he's out of the room, the door slamming behind him. Angela goes off and grabs a wet rag from the bathroom and holds it out to Curly, knowing he doesn't want any comfort or company at the moment. He gratefully takes the rag and presses it to his gushing nose, still sitting on the floor of the brothers' room.

Glaring around, he thinks about the day. Why was Tim hitting on the only girl Curly showed any interest in? Why did he intentionally leave Curly out of the gang business, when he too was a member? Why did Charlie flirt with him when they were alone, but when Tim was around, she only had eyes for him? And above all, why the hell did his brother have to hit so damn hard?

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks again, everyone. Reviews are wonderful, so please leave me some.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I've decided to continue writing this story, but I'm honestly doing it mostly for my own entertainment. So while I appreciate reads and reviews, don't feel obligated. I'm enjoying writing it and that's what matters to me.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton still owns _The Outsiders_. Original characters and plot are my own.

* * *

It's early - too fuckin' early to be awake - when Curly hears Tim hollering. He bolts upright in bed and rubs his eyes wearily as he stumbles out of bed, trying to get his body in attack mode. Angela is already awake next door, groaning and hissing about life bein' too short to get up at six in the morning.

In spite of his exhaustion, Curly smiles at his sister and throws on some jeans as he heads downstairs to see what the deal is. Not seeing Tim anywhere inside, he heads out of the front door and finds his brother raging in their driveway, pacing around his beautiful black Impala.

The slashes run from the front fender to the back taillight - deep and ugly - and rip through the custom paint job on the car. Curly simply stands back and whistles, shaking his head slowly as he walks around Tim's baby, trying to hide his amusement. Someone went to town on the car and Curly can see it's under Tim's skin like nothing else.

Tim ran his hand over his face for the tenth time and mumble a dark string of words, most of which Curly misses, but he gets the idea. Tim Shepard is fuckin' pissed.

"Who d'you think did it," Curly ventures, still trying to hide a small smirk.

The only answer he gets is a simple, "Kings", before Tim is back to focusing on the car, his hand tracing the rough cuts. Curly nods in agreement and rubs his black eye tenderly as he thinks.

Things between the gangs in Tulsa were steadily getting worse. The Curtis gang had the run in with Brumly's and the Shepard's were mixing it up with the River Kings. Only ones keeping out of the drama seemed to be the Tiber Street Tigers, but even they had their battles they fought. Tim's biggest concern was keeping his boys alive and keeping his gang thriving under the ever-encroaching Kings.

Territory had never been a dispute until the Soc and greaser feud ended. The shitty side of town had always been divided between the gangs of hoods running around and the mild-mannered greaser gangs, like Ponyboy and his friends ran. But now, with no real boundaries separating them, the gangs were moving for more land and more power, and any stepping on toes was quick to earn a response.

Like fucking with Tim's car.

As Curly watches, Tim goes inside and makes a phone call. Within minutes, he knows the rest of their gang will appear and Tim will be barking out orders as to who does what and how they wanna handle this. Curly sighs and rubs his face with his hand. Those guys don't know what they got themselves into, he thinks wryly. But then again, he's pretty sure the Kings know exactly what they're doing.

A shiver of fear races up his spine and Curly lights up a cigarette.

XxX

Driving down the back country road, Curly swerves between the two lanes, making Jack and Sam laugh and holler loudly. They have the radio blaring and they're on their way to Catoosa for the day, looking for some trouble outside of Tulsa. After Tim threw his fit over the car, he let Curly leave so he and his second could talk more strategy. On most days, that probably would have offended Curly, but not today. Today he wanted to get out and have some fun.

Ahead, he sees the glint of an oncoming car's windshield and he grins, his eyes narrowing behind his aviator shades. Jack sees the car and yells out some kind of war cry, Sam just laughing in the back.

"Man," Sam drawls over the music. "I didn't sign on for no game of back-road-chicken, Curls."

Jack howls along to the song and punches Sam in the arm. "C'mon, Sammy! Live a little."

Sam slaps the back of his friends head with a glare. "Ain't said you could call me that, Tucker. Shut the fuck up. Curly, get over man."

Ignoring his friends and their mindless bickering, Curly plows ahead in the wrong lane. His adrenaline is surging as the cars get closer. When the other driver lays on their horn, Curly actually lets out a mad laugh. He feels more alive than he has in months.

His determination starts to worry even the fearless Jack, who begins to reconsider his previous support. "Hey, uh, Curly? Gettin' kinda close, ain't we?"

"Not close enough, buddy," he mutters between gritted teeth, bearing down on the car's gas pedal.

They're close enough to actually see the other driver. He's a middle-aged, baldheaded man with thick-rimmed glasses. Behind them, his eyes are huge with fear and he's still laying on that horn. Dumbass, Curly thinks wildly.

"Let's live a little, boys," he yells over the sound of Elvis on the radio and bears down on the other driver, the cars on a collision course unless one of them would give.

Sam starts yelling in the backseat, covering his face with his hands as he screams about being too young to die. Jack just starts cursing under his breath, his eyes locked on the other car. And Curly just keeps laughing.

At the last second, the other driver jerks his wheel to the left, steering his car just out of their way. As they pass him, he hollers out of his window in a strained voice about hoodlums and how they shouldn't be allowed to drive. Danger averted, Jack flips him the bird as Curly sneers from behind his sunglasses.

Once they've passed their near death experience, Sam cussing loudly and hits Curly hard in the back of the head. Still laughing, Curly shakes his friend off and focuses on the road. One thing he'd gotten from Tim was that reckless sense of invincibility. He was Curly fuckin' Shepard. No car crash was gonna kill him. Especially not when he was the driver.

Easing the car back to cruising speed, the three friends headed on to their destination. Lucky for his passengers, they didn't see any other drivers.

XxX

"Goddamn," Sam drawls slowly, watching the thick smoke waft in front of his face.

While Curly and Jack had gone around chasing skirts, Sam had scored some grass. By the time the two friends found him, he was higher than a fuckin' cloud and of absolutely no use to them. So, Jack and Curly sat back and had some good laughs as their friend tried to sound like a philosopher.

"Ya know," he says, staring hazily up at the sky. "Them clouds is so close I could touch 'em. Like, the sky looks so high up, but it's so not. It's so close, man. Everything is so close., you feel me?"

Curly howls with laughter as his stoned friend continues his ramble and Jack amuses himself by throwing blades of grass onto Sam's shirt, completely unbeknownst to his friend. They'd found an empty field near a local diner and decided to head out for a bit and give Sam some time to come down before rustling up any serious action.

"So, Charlie?" Jack is still staring at Sam as he throws more grass pieces, but Curly knows he's talking to him.

"What about her?"

Jack rolls his eyes and gives Curly a pointed look. "C'mon, man. This guy here _is _stupid. Don't play dumb with me. What happened after we left the other day?"

Curly grins as he remembers Charlie's curves against him and shrugs. "Dunno, man. Thinkin' 'bout makin' my move soon, though."

"Good for you, Curls," Jack answers sincerely. "'Bout time, anyways. Maybe we'll finally learn somethin' else 'bout her."

Curly laughs and nods. "Right? Figure she'll have to tell me stuff if she's my girl."

"Ain't that the truth." The friends fall silent for a minute before Jack presses on. "So we really gonna torch the diner, Curly?"

"Yeah. I really think we are. But I think we're gonna do a bit more than that."

Jack leans forward, his attention officially caught. "I'm listenin'."

"River Kings fucked up Tim's car," he says, glaring moodily off in the distance as he remembers the damage done. "I think we could give them a run for their money at the same time we burn that shithole down. Whaddya say?"

Dark eyes gleaming, Jack sneers and sticks his hand out for a shake. "You know I'm in."

XxX

Curly pulls into his driveway after the day's adventures draw to a close. He called Tim from Catoosa to see if he needed to do anything, but Tim didn't want to go into specifics over the phone. He settled for saying, "It's being taken care of" before hanging up. Curly had a feeling he'd hear a lot about just _what_ was taken care of in the papers the next week. But he pushed that aside and enjoyed his time with his friends.

As he climbs out of the car, Curly flips out his switchblade and glances around out of habit. Seeing no one, he pockets the blade and heads inside. The house is dark when he enters, setting Curly slightly on edge. There's always someone home, even if it isn't a Shepard. One of his friends, one of Tim's friends, shit even Angel's friends crash there. Lights off is usually a bad thing.

Curly flips the light switch and scans the room quickly, nothing looking out of place downstairs. He feels his nerves tighten as he quietly moves to check the kitchen, then the bathroom. The only rooms left are the upstairs bedrooms and bathroom. Curly carefully climbs the steps, avoiding the three he knows creak like a bitch. Once upstairs, he glances in Angela's room and the end bathroom, seeing nothing.

His parents room is clearly empty, the door wide open. The only one left is the room he shares with Tim. Creeping forward, Curly holds his knife out, the blade sharpened and ready. He feels his adrenaline pumping for the second time that day as he throws the door open and flips on the light, ready to attack whatever is waiting for him.

"Jesus Christ, Curly!"

He wasn't ready for that.

Tim covers himself up quickly, but not quick enough. Curly sees more than enough of his brother to last him a lifetime and he groans, spinning away.

"Shut the fuckin' door, goddammit!"

For once, Curly doesn't feel like arguing the point and slams the door shut behind him, heading for the kitchen to attempt to drink away the mental images now burned in his mind. Behind the door he hears Tim cursing darkly, followed by a higher pitched female voice.

He grabs two beers from the fridge and hops on the counter, drinking half of his beer in one swallow. Tim stumbles downstairs a few minutes later, his hair sticking up oddly and an exasperated look on his face.

"Curly," he starts. "The fuck were you thinkin'?"

Smirking at his brother he tips his beer in Tim's direction. "I was thinking, big bro, just what you've always taught me. Things look outta place, they probably are. No lights on means somethin' ain't right. I was bein' careful, just like you told me. Coulda put out a sign or somethin'?"

"Sayin' what, 'Tim's gettin' laid, come back later'?"

Curly lets out a rare laugh in the presence of his brother and Tim chuckles as well, sipping his beer as he leans against the counter. "Next time, I'll leave a light on."

Stunned that his brother conceded he was wrong, Curly nods and shrugs. "And I, uh, I'll call ahead next time."

Tim smirks and sips more of his beer. Another set of lighter footsteps make their way down the stairs and Curly sees Tim's face harden as his latest partner makes her way around the corner wearing nothing but panties and a borrowed shirt of Tim's, her red hair wild and most definitely evidence of some serious fucking.

"Hey there, Curls." She smiles as she grabs Tim's beer and finishes it off.

"Charlie?"

* * *

**A/N: **If you read it, thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I'm shocked how many people are reading this. Thanks for showing an interest. Sorry for the delay...again, I'm really just writing this for the fun of it.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns _The Outsiders_. Plot and original characters are my own.

* * *

Curly watches silently from his place in the bushes as the first cops arrive on the scene. The body on the ground is still; he hasn't moved since Curly found his hiding place. He lights up a smoke as the cop paces around the fallen hood. Before long, the place is buzzing with activity.

Half a dozen cops swarm the park, sirens blaring and lights flashing. In each flash of red and blue, Curly gets a glimpse of the dead guy on the ground. Some medical worker comes on the scene and brings over a body bag to the still individual. Curly shakes his head and takes a deep drag off his smoke, thinking about the mess that this murder has just started.

They roll out the body a few minutes later, sliding the stretcher into the back of the waiting ambulance. Just another dead hood in Tulsa, he thinks. Who'd have guessed that one? He glances down at his watch, tilting it so he can catch the light of the streetlamp. It was time to catch his ride.

Curly extinguished his cigarette, stomping on it with his boot, as he scanned the street for the waiting car. Sam is parked back by the flower shop and with one last glance at the crime scene, Curly heads for his friend. He climbs in the passenger seat and motions for Sam to hurry up, peeling away from the curb and towards the outskirts of town.

"The hell was all that," Sam murmurs in the darkness, taking a drink from his beer.

Smirking, Curly simply says, "Tim."

Sam turns to gawk at Curly so quickly that Curly has to take the wheel to keep them from hitting the next light post. "You killed him? Fuck, Curly."

Curly shakes his head and waves at his friend as Sam regains control of the vehicle. "Shit, no. One of them Kings fucked with his car. Tim put a hit out on one of them. That was the guy he had killed, man. Sam, keep smokin' that shit you've been hooked on and you ain't gonna have no brains left. I didn't kill my brother. Thought about it, but no."

After seeing Charlie in Tim's shirt, the stench of sex so strong in the air he could have puked, Curly split. Not before shouting a few select words at Tim and having Charlie watch him innocently from the countertop. He knew he could have called Jack, but that would have involved a series of questions Curly didn't want to deal with just then. So, he'd called Sam.

Once he learns he isn't harboring a fugitive, Sam drives in silence as they head towards the shadiest side of town. Curly burns through three more cigarettes on the ride, vaguely remembering Darry Curtis always riding Pony about smoking. He grins, imagining if Tim ever tried to get him to stop smoking. The smile dies on his lips as he remembers _why_ he's on his way to Sam's.

Jabbing angrily at the radio dial, Curly finds some rock on the radio and cranks it up, making Sam wince at the noise, but his friend stays silent. He's a good friend, Curly thinks as he stares out of the window. Finally they arrive at the dingiest set of apartments in the row and both get out of the car.

Sam lives in a one bedroom apartment above a rough bar. As they climb the stairs, a guy in the corner is stabbed by his fighting opponent and not a single person bats an eye. Curly shakes his head and follows Sam upstairs, watching his back. When they get inside, Curly takes note of the dozen bullet holes in the floor and suspicious stains on the ceiling. But he isn't complaining. He's just glad to get out of his house.

"So, man, how long you think you'll be here," Sam mutters, dropping his jacket on the floor as he rummages for a smoke.

Curly shrugs and leans against the wall as he sits on the ground. "Not too sure yet."

"Our job still on?"

"What job?"

Rolling his eyes, Sam flicks his lighter and a small flame appears. "Torchin' that bitch of a place. You still gonna run it?"

"Why wouldn't we," Curly asks, rubbing his face wearily. "Ain't like I need big brother's permission. Never did and I sure as hell don't now."

Sam studies him silently as he smokes, sitting on the dresser. When Curly called him earlier, he didn't tell him anything specific. That was the beauty of Sam; he never asked too many questions. He was one of the best friends to have in a town like Tulsa.

"Tim was fuckin' Charlie."

His eyes widen slightly and Sam tilts his head as he thinks. "You gonna quit the gang?"

Curly shrugs and takes a deep drag on his smoke. "Over some broad? Hell no. Over Charlie? I have no fuckin' clue."

Sam points his cigarette at his friend with a serious look. "You'd better figure out soon, man. Your brother don't strike me as the patient type."

"Yeah, well he can find some patience," Curly snaps, flicking his ashes in Sam's direction. "He fucked my girl, man. I ain't gonna forget that..brother or not."

Falling silent, Sam points to the closet and Curly sees a spare pillow and wad of blankets on the ground. He nods his thanks as his friend climbs in the bed, falling asleep almost instantly. Sleep eludes Curly, though, as he sits on the floor and smokes steadily. He thinks of his brother. He thinks of Charlie. And he thinks of what the hell he's going to do now.

XxX

Four days go by. Sam doesn't mind Curly crashing with him, but Curly is starting to get tired of sleeping on the hard floor. He's spent one night on the Curtis' couch, but he didn't get much sleep there. Every time their door swung open he would jump up and expect to see his brother, blue eyes blazing. So he stays clear of their place.

On the fifth day, Curly stands outside of Sam's smoking. He needed some fresh air and the couple in the apartment next door was fucking. The walls are thin in the building and Curly didn't want to listen to Donna moan about good Roy feels again. So he heads outside, Sam still sleeping.

As he leans against the building, he sees the car that Charlie got into pull up in the parking lot. He remembers the car because not many people on this side of town own a nice car, especially not a Mustang. It's probably lifted, he thinks with a smirk, taking a deep drag off his smoke. The passenger door opens and he sees the same massive guy behind the wheel before he sees Charlie climb out of the car and head in his direction. Shit.

He knows he doesn't have time to head back inside, not with her eyes locked on him, but he can't resist the urge to run. Curly stomps on his cigarette and casually turns to go in the building, trying not to make it obvious. But Charlie sees his escape attempt coming and calls out to him.

"Really? Charles, don't be an ass. I just came to talk."

Glaring at her, Curly crosses his arms and stands a bit taller, a habit he's picked up in order to look tougher. "Oh, first names now, huh? What do you want, _Charlene_?"

"Don't make me break your nose again, Curly," she sighs, already sounding bored with the conversation. "You can't just run from your problems, sweetheart."

He scoffs and lights up another cigarette, blowing the smoke in her direction. "Don't call me sweetheart. You're fuckin' my brother, Charlie. I don't take too kindly to that."

She leans against the wall next to him, so close that they're touching, but Curly shifts his weight away from her. "Don't be that way. Tim isn't anything serious. You oughta know that. It ain't like I was _your_ girl at the time, was I? Did you ever ask me out?"

Curly stays silent, trying to count to ten to calm himself down. He feels his temper rising and doesn't want to start yelling again. Truth be told, he's tired of the yelling. He just wants things to go his way. For once. Charlie puts her hand on his arm and squeezes gently.

"I can't wait around forever, Curly. Tim asked me out and I said yes. We fucked. Big deal. He ain't the only hood I've gone to bed with and he won't be the last. Don't take it so personal."

"It _is_ personal when it's my brother, Charlie. It'd be different if it was somebody else."

"So I could fuck Sam and you'd be fine with that?"

Curly shoots her a dirty look and Charlie laughs lightly, nudging him with her shoulder. "Laugh a little, Curls. That was a joke."

"So's Tim," he replies sullenly, hating how whiny it makes him sound, but he can't take back the words now.

Charlie faces him and gives him a searching look. "Are we good, Curly? I don't see why you're just gonna throw away what we had because I slept with your brother. It ain't like I'm doing it to hurt you. I like Tim. He's...dangerous."

Curly scowls and glares at her. "Yeah, well I ain't no pussy."

"Oh, I know. I mean c'mon, Curly. You came up with that idea for the Dingo. I don't see Tim thinking that big." Her voice is silky and sweet and Curly knows what she's doing.

But he doesn't care.

He pulls Charlie to him and his lips are on hers. She doesn't resist, if anything, she deepens the kiss as she tangles her hands into his thick hair. Curly kisses her the way he has always meant to - passionate, desperate, and hot. Charlie leans against him, her body fitting against his perfectly.

Curly wants so much more than this and he can tell Charlie would go with it, but he isn't like that. He's not Tim. He breaks the kiss and looks down at Charlie with a small smirk.

"Thought you were Tim's girl."

She smirks coyly with a simple shrug. "It ain't exclusive, sweetie."

Resisting the urge to take her upstairs and make Donna and Roy listen to _them_, he lights up another smoke and extends her one. Charlie studies him as she inhales deeply and Curly stares off into the empty lot. She grips his chin in her small hand and pulls his attention back to her.

"I'm still with you, Curls. Whatever you wanna do, I'm there. Got it?"

He smirks coolly at her, exhaling smoke. "Sure thing."

"Do us all a favor - don't act like your brother." She's staring away from him as she says it, but Curly hears the edge to her words and frowns.

"And that means?"

Her sharp stare turns to him and Curly wants to flinch away from that look, so calculating, but he holds his gaze. "Meaning, don't be a wise-ass. And don't get confident. Tim thinks he runs Tulsa. Don't start thinkin' that way. You ain't invincible. None of us are."

Curly turns his attention to her completely, the frown deepening. "And what does _that_ mean? D'you know somethin' I don't?"

Charlie's sharp look fades, replaced with her signature smirk and she shrugs. "Just an observation, doll. C'mon. Let's go have some fun."

She turns away without waiting for a reply, hips swinging sexily as she heads inside of the building. Curly shakes his head and steps on his smoke, following a few steps behind. Broads.

* * *

**A/N: **Don't be afraid to drop a review in that box down there. It takes less time to review than it does to read. Thanks.


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